


Across the Folds of Time

by MissMarquin



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family, Feels, Heartwrenching, Reincarnation, im sorry, this will kill you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarquin/pseuds/MissMarquin
Summary: They say that the Kami-sama bless those that are good, with someone just for them. The good news is that The Kami-sama are benevolent. Even if they stray from that person, they are given as many chances as they need to find them again.How many times must he live through her happiness, in order to find his own?





	1. In the Beginning, There was Rin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have no control of my life, or the story ideas that pop into my head.

_In the Beginning, There was Rin_

 

* * *

 

 

His father had often told him about the curse of being old. Or rather, complained about it. Even right before his death, he would sigh woefully at the idea. Perhaps it was because Sesshoumaru wasn’t as old as he was, but he never _felt_ as such. Despite the amount of time that he has spent on the Earth, he still felt young in his bones.

But there were moments where he felt that twinge, that dreaded feeling-- of being _weary_. Of being a bitter, old man.

This was one of those moments.

Rin looked at him, her big brown eyes sparkling as she laughed with joy. Her hands joined with Kohaku’s at their side. A nervous blush crossed the man’s face, as he looked towards the girl, but Rin only smiled back impishly. And Sesshoumaru could see the boy’s heart melt.

He was a good choice, the _best_ choice.

That’s what he had told himself, when he left Rin in Keade’s village as a child. _She needs her own kind_ , the woman had said to him. _How will she grow into a woman, if she’s not around one?_ And since, Rin had done just that. She had passed the age of being nothing but knobby knees and limbs too long for the rest of her-- she was a woman grown, filling out her subtle curves and ready to settle down.

Which she would with Kohaku. They would marry and have children, and grow old together and then Rin would--

And this was why he suddenly felt old.

Time flowed differently for the two of them. One day, she had been the little girl he had resurrected with his father’s fang, and in the blink of an eye now she was--

“Sesshoumaru-sama, aren’t you happy for me?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts.

What an utterly ridiculous question, of _course_ he was happy for her. Couldn’t she tell… actually, probably not, since he wasn’t the most expressive of individuals. Even if Rin could read him better than anyone alive, she couldn’t read his mind.

“Then at least say so!” she said with a laugh, leaning against Kohaku. “He’s terrified that you’ll kill him for even such a suggestion.” She said it with humor, but Kohaku paled slightly at the idea.

“No, Kohaku is a good choice,” Sesshoumaru said, in his carefully honed and quiet tone. “He will take care of you, where I cannot.” Kohaku let out a long breath of air, easing slightly. That’s when Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked into the _tiniest_ of smirks. “Of course, if he fails to do so, I’ll throw him into hell myself.”

Kohaku’s face fell once more, and Rin laughed even harder. “He’s joking!” she assured him, patting at his chest. “I swear, Kohaku-kun, he’s only joking!”

But the boy met his gaze and grimaced slightly. Even if it was meant in humor, he wasn’t joking. And the boy knew that.

Good.

  
  


* * *

 

The two kids married, and Rin was happy. At least she _seemed_ to be so. When Sesshoumaru prodded her with questions about it, she always smiled, her face lighting up brilliantly.

“Truly, Sesshoumaru-sama, Kohaku-kun treats me with all the love in the world.”

“And so, it was the right choice?” He didn’t know why he asked, it wasn’t like it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Rin’s well being, and despite every time she promised, every reassurance, he still felt that doubt.

At his question, Rin cocked her head to the side with amusement. “Such a father, Sesshoumaru-sama,” she teased. “But I promise you, I love him dearly. We are very happy. Thank you for letting it be.”

 _Thank you_. Why had she thanked him? He had done nothing. Rin was the kind of woman that forged her own path, paving her own way. He had only helped her a little bit.

“How you would feel about being Sesshoumaru Oji-san?” Rin randomly asked, and he froze, looking to her. And she looked back, a lazy smile spreading across her face as she laughed lightly, her hand moving to rest across her belly.

Not for the first time, he felt old.

But for the first time, it wasn’t a bad feeling.

  
  


* * *

 

Sesshoumaru had been scared for Rin, when his mother had cast her into hell as a joke. But nothing would have ever prepared him for the danger of childbirth.

He had originally planned on being _far_ away from this place, when she went into labor, but Kohaku had sent Kirara with a desperate plea to come immediately. Fearing for the worst, he had immediately traveled there… only to find an _infuriatingly_ healthy Rin (Kagome’s words, not his), and an incredibly frazzled husband, waiting outside the home.

And that was when Sesshoumaru realized that Kohaku had called upon him personally, not for Rin’s sake. How annoying.

“How did you do it?” Kohaku asked, his face pale. Despite Kagome’s assurances that Rin was doing rather well, he held such nervous energy, it was hard to not be affected. “How were you able to just… take her with you, into danger, and not worry every damn moment?”

It wasn’t something that Sesshoumaru had really ever considered, until that moment. “I was constantly worried,” he said. “Don’t you remember boy?”

Kohaku considered for a moment, but Sesshoumaru already knew that Kohaku didn’t remember much from that time. Rin had once told him that the boy described it _as a blur_. Finally, Kohaku let out a sigh that bordered on tired and amused. “I guess that’s a good thing, then? That even _you_ can be scared. She’s been in that hut all day, and all I hear are screams and curses, and Gods above, I don’t know what to do.”

And Sesshoumaru wanted to tell him to not be scared, but in a rare moment, the words couldn’t come.

“I’m a _taijiya_ ,” Kohaku said, his voice trembling with the absurdity of it all. “I’ve seen death. I’ve seen hell, and _fought_ hell, and what is the thing that pushes me over the edge? My wife in _childbirth_.”

“You fear not only for her, but for your son as well.”

At his words, Kohaku perked up slightly, pushing away from the wall. “Son?”

Sesshoumaru had forgotten that humans couldn’t smell their offspring. Finally, he said, “It is natural to fear for those we love, but I wouldn’t let Rin know that you called me here to comfort you. She would never let you hear the end of it.”

At that, the boy managed to laugh. “You know Sesshoumaru-sama, I know it was hard for you to let her go.”

“It wasn’t,” Sesshoumaru replied. “Because she managed to pick the most decent of men.” Kohaku was about to reply, but the youkai raised his hand to stop him. “Don’t. I won’t say it again.”

Kohaku didn’t need to thank him, and so the boy didn’t.

“I’ll stay here, until the boy is born,” Sesshoumaru said.

And so he did.

Rin would surprise him (and no one else), by asking him to come see the child first.

  
  


* * *

 

His new favorite days, were the ones where he brought Rin’s children gifts.

She teasingly called them his _grandchildren_ , and despite the little curl that would fall across his lip, he didn’t find the term annoying. Instead, it was endearing.

As were human, children apparently. Rin had been married for almost fifteen years, and had two of them, and there wasn’t a day that he didn’t look forward to their stupid little faces. _Stupid_ , he reminded himself, because it would do him no good to become too attached.

It wasn’t like he could take them home with him. Unlike Rin as a child, they actually _belonged_ to a family.

“For Hiro-san,” he said, handing the boy a wicked looking dagger. Rin would be angry at such a gift, but Kohaku would smile devilishly, excited for a knew toy to train his son with.

“And for Hana-chan,” he continued with, handing the girl a porcelain doll. He had acquired it overseas, and perhaps the twelve-year-old would find it to be a _dumb_ present, but she smiled nonetheless, hugging it tightly.

They were too old to call him Oji-san, but did so anyway, and in return, Sesshoumaru gave them a rare smile. They ran off with their gifts.

“You know,” Rin said from behind him, “If you keep spoiling them, it might go to their heads.”

“You won’t spoil them, so I will,” he said with humor. “After all, aren’t I their _grandfather_?”

At that, Rin laughed, leaning against him. Sesshoumaru gave her a one-sided hug, and he truly meant it. It was weird, to have such physical admiration, but the years had slowly worn him down. He met Rin's hugs with his own now.

“Don’t think that I didn’t see you slip that knife to my son,” she said with an edge to her voice.

“It was either myself or your husband, and I guarantee that the quality of my blade would be far superior.”

Rin hummed at that. “Yes well, when he cuts a finger off, you’re the one to blame.”

“I haven’t yet used Tenseiga on him,” Sesshoumaru replied easily. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Sesshoumaru-sama, was that a _joke_?” she asked, her tone shining.

Sesshoumaru thought about it for a moment. “I suppose that it was.” Honestly, the words had flown from his lips with natural ease.

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” she then asked, her voice falling quiet. “Do you want more children to spoil?” He looked to her, surprised. Rin was old, by human standards-- nearly forty. Could she even bear children still? Her face held youth, but there were lines around her eyes, and the faintest of feathered strokes around her mouth. “Kohaku and I thought we might want another,” she continued with, when he didn’t answer.

He knew that telling her it was stupid idea wouldn’t stop her, so instead, he said, “Your family is a blessing, Rin. Any others who join, will be welcomed most assuredly.”

At that, Rin smiled. “Good, because Inuyasha said they’re going to be twins.”

Just like the first time she had told him that she was pregnant, he froze. And just like the first time, she laughed at him.

  
  


* * *

 

He remembered the first time that Rin had gotten sick with a fever.

She had been only a child, and while he had known little to _nothing_ about humans, he knew that the forehead wasn’t supposed to feel that hot. Or that she wasn’t supposed to be grunting with discomfort in her sleep. He remembered dumping her in front of Kaede’s hut, demanding that she help.

And strangely, the woman had told him what to do, after telling him that he was as _stupid_ as his brother. The only reason she had lived, was because she was helping Rin. But the girl got better, and did so any other time she ever had fallen sick.

When Hiro-san sent him a letter though, saying that his mother hadn’t been doing well as of late, there was a strange pang through his heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. Rin was into her sixties now, and though he would describe her as strong and stubborn as an ox… she was still human.

And she suffered the human condition.

Like many things nowadays, it made him feel old. And it wasn’t a feeling that he liked anymore. In her youth, it had been okay. In her youth, he could feel that time separated them, but it had meant little. Rin was still smiling, enjoying her life.

But those days were just _yesterday_ for him, and they had been a _lifetime_ ago, for her.

And so, the letter--

_I don’t think there is cause for concern, Oji-san. I just wanted to warn you that with each winter, she gets a little more frail. Mother is as stubborn as they come, and insists on doing her own work around the house. I’m more concerned that she’ll hurt herself, more so than she’ll fall ill._

_What I do know, is that she would love for you to visit_.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew that Hiro wanted him to come and talk some sense into her. Which meant that Kohaku had already tried and failed.

So when he arrived at their home in the village, and he saw Rin out front gardening, he frowned. It had been more than a year since they had seen each other last, but she had aged what seemed ten. Suddenly, her hair was gray, tied into a low bun. Her fingers and wrists were knobby and deeply veined, despite the strength that she still held. And her face-- she was still Rin-- but it was like a shadow of her was looking at him, full of wrinkles and lines, and deep-set eyes that seemed weary.

He realized he didn’t know her exact age, and it _bothered_ him.

And that’s when he realized what that pang had been. It had been _fear_. Rin leaving him was something he had always known, but he had never truly comprehended the idea. Until now.

He watched her heave the hoe back and forth, grunting slightly. “I know that my son wrote to you,” she said, instead of properly greeting him. It was a bitter, huffed tone that wasn’t very Rin-like. She continued to pull at the earth. “Akane-san told me. Resorting to calling you here, the nerve of them!”

Akane-san, Hiro’s wife. Good kid, with strong bones and a mouth that matched, despite her inability to have children.

“And so you know why I’ve come,” he said cooly.

“They want me to slow down and do nothing, Sesshoumaru-sama. These bones are old, but they aren’t brittle. They are restless, and I _have_ to move around, otherwise I--” But she didn’t finish her sentence, instead letting out a frustrated sound.

_These bones are old._

The idea of Rin being old was strange and new, and he wanted to avoid it at all costs.

“Rin, think of your family,” he said quietly. “Do they want you for only a few more years? Or do they want you for _many_ years to come?”

“I don’t want those years, if means sitting around like a hag.”

“Kaede-san would be insulted to hear you say such things.”

He had expected her to laugh, but she didn’t. “Kaede-san was ancient, but she worked until she keeled over. If I were to die, I want it to be doing what I love, rather than wasting away.”

What an incredibly _Rin_ thing to say, so he wasn’t sure why anger sprouted within him. “No one wants you to die, Rin, but you’ll put yourself into an early grave.” And the words came out _heated_.

Rin paused in her work, stabbing the hoe into the ground and leaning against it. “What’s it to you, Sesshoumaru-sama? You haven’t changed one bit, and you never will. Despite being my entire world, I’m just a little blip in your long existence. Give it another hundred years, and you’re like to forget all about me.”

She sounded dangerously close to _accusing_ him of something, but then he remembered something from long ago.

“ _Would you remember me, Sesshoumaru-sama?_ ” she had asked one day, the quiet musings of a little child. He hadn’t realized that it was something that had plagued her for so long.

“Rin,” he said quietly, “You dishonor me with such an accusation.”

“ _Dishonor_ ,” she spat, before picking up the hoe again. “Such irony coming from you. Even after all this time, you’ll never understand.”

“Understand _what_?”

Finally Rin sighed, defeated, and she looked older in that moment than she ever had before. “It doesn’t matter, Sesshoumaru-sama. Regardless of what you try to do, I’ll live my life the way I see fit.”

“You always have, Rin,” he replied. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

She paused again and laughed, _really_ laughed. It was sarcastic and sharp, bubbling up from deep within her, like she was making fun of him. Like they were on entire different levels of understanding. Finally, she stopped, wiping at her face.

“Sesshoumaru-sama, I would appreciate it if you would leave.”

That confused him. In the entirety of his time with her, Rin has never asked him to leave. He’s asked _her_ to leave. He’s _left_ her places, telling her the importance of being with her kind. But never has the girl ever told him to leave her be.

“Rin--”

“Sesshoumaru, _leave_.”

No suffix, no propriety. Just a strained plea, filled with familiarity. And there were more, just hanging onto the tip of her tongue, and he knew that if he left now, he wouldn’t ever come back.

It hurt more than he would ever admit aloud..

Even so, he turned and left her be.

  
  


* * *

 

When Sesshoumaru slept, he would dream, and he usually didn’t like what his subconscious had to say. And so, he rarely did so. But youkai still needed it once in awhile, and so he eventually had to cave and nap-- even if for an hour or so.

This time, he dreamt of his father, and parts of a very old conversation.

“They say that the Kami-sama bless those that are good, with someone just for them,” he said to him, his voice swooning with lightheartedness. Sesshoumaru frowned, and he _knew_ that his father was thinking of _that woman_.

“Who said such a ridiculous thing?”

“Bokusenou-san, of course,”

At that, Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes. “Bokusenou-sama is a tree. What does he know?”

At that, his father frowned. “More than you, pup. Would it kill you to have a romantic thought once in a while?”

“ _Yes_.”

Inutaisho-sama turned to him fully, a sad smile crossing his face. “Such a pity then.”

“What is your point, Chichiue? Do you think that you have such a _fated_ one?”

“Of course I do,” he said proudly, “Or did you think that Izayoi-chan is only a _whim_ of mine?” Sesshoumaru didn’t bother to respond, causing his father to sigh. “The good news is that The Kami-sama are benevolent. Even if we stray from that person, we are given as many chances as we need to find them again.”

Odd. This wasn’t how he remembered the original conversation, though it _had_ been over a century ago. “Why does it sound like you are talking about me?”

“Because I am, pup.” Sesshoumaru risked a look at his face, and was met with a sly grin that he didn’t like. He scoffed, moving to step away, and Inutaisho reached out and grabbed his arm. “Really, my son, I’m only worried for you. You have everything, and yet… you don’t. And now, it’s too late.”

“I am not _good_ ,” Sesshoumaru then said. “I am not good, there for there is _no one_ for me.”

His father sighed. “I used to think the same, and then she fell right into my lap.”

 _Fell into my lap_.

Sesshoumaru shot awake, breathing hard. For once, he had retired to the Western Palace, and for once, he slept in his own rooms. But they didn’t seem welcome really, because anywhere there wasn’t Rin, was a dark and dim place.

He shouldn’t think things like that. Rin was an old woman now. Rin had children of her own. Rin was happily married.

 _But what if_.

What a ridiculous, foolish thought. These were the kind of thoughts that had gotten his father killed, and he was above that. He was above _everything_.

He had just pulled himself from his futon, throwing on an under robe, when Jaken came barging in. And before he could snap at the toad for such indecency, the little man squawked.

“Sesshoumaru-sama, I beg your pardon, but something has happened! Something--”

“Then take care of it!” he snapped. “This one--”

“This concerns you,” Jaken interrupted, ducking slightly when Sesshoumaru turned his gaze onto him. “Sesshoumaru-sama,” he added quietly. “They’re waiting outside.”

“ _Who_.”

“Kohaku-san,” the toad said quietly. “And his son.”

 _Kohaku and Hiro._ The only reason they would ever come here to his palace, was if--

It was like his blood had run cold. “No,” he breathed, and then he was gone, flying from his room with nothing more than his underthings. He didn’t care if they saw his bare chest, or how uncomposed he was.

His servants had barely flung open the front doors, when he stumbled into the courtyard, barefooted and half-dressed. And there was Kohaku and Hiro, dressed in black, their mouths set into grim lines. And behind them, Kirara.

And across her back, was clearly a human, shrouded in canvas.

After she had told him to leave, he had never come back. He had written her letters, and she replied curtly, but he had never visited her again. Her children had begged for him to. Kohaku had pleaded as well, and Sesshoumaru had turned a blind eye to them all.

Because Rin was stubborn, and so was he.

And now she was dead.

  
  


* * *

 

Kohaku had never really been much of a tea drinker, so Sesshoumaru was surprised when the man had asked to share a cup. They had relocated to a Garden on the Western side of the palace, once this his father had kept.

One of the few things, that Sesshoumaru had kept as well.

“Why have you brought her here?” he asked the boy.

Except that Kohaku wasn’t a boy anymore. He was an old man now, and despite his spryness, he was withered and wrinkled, his hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. Sesshoumaru wondered if this is how Rin had looked, the night she passed.

“She never actually requested it, but I know that she would want to be put to rest here.”

“But your village--”

“You and I both know, Sesshoumaru-sama, that her home wasn’t the village. Her home was always with you.”

“You were her husband,” Sesshoumaru said quietly.

“Yes.”

“You loved her.”

“Of course.”

“And she loved you.”

That time, Kohaku hesitated, his hands tightening around his cup. He took a drink and sighed. “Yes, she did,” he finally said. “But not like she loved you.”

They weren’t words that he wanted to hear. They were the kinds of things that his father would have told him, not the husband of his dead---

His dead what? Ward? Daughter? Rin was both of those things, and at the same time, neither of those things. There wasn’t a word that could describe what she was, to him.

And yet, Kohaku seemed to have known. He probably had for a long time.

“I married her, knowing that I would never be you,” he said, confirming it. “And we were happy. She was sunshine and rainbows. And every day, she looked at me with warmth and contentment. But it wasn’t the same. Her smile never reached her eyes, and it only did, when you were there.”

“Such nonsense,” Sesshoumaru said.

But Kohaku only laughed. “You were the first to know, whenever she was with child. She let you see them first, and honestly, I didn’t really care. And even in the end, it was you that she asked for.”

That startled him. But, he still wouldn’t have come.

“And so,” Kohaku said, “she belongs here. I know that it was hard for you to let her go.”

Familiar words, Sesshoumaru thought. The boy had said them to him, decades ago, on the night that Hiro had been born. He must have known, even then. And instead of hating him, he had called upon him, knowing that Rin would want him to see their son.

His father had teased Sesshoumaru about being one of the _good_ ones, but he wasn’t. He was spiteful, and hateful, and the moment that he had felt such emotion, he had thrown her away. Kohaku was the good one, the man with honor. The man who had remained by her side.

Kohaku had every reason in the world to spit in his face, and instead, he had brought her back to him.

“How is it that youkai tend to their dead?” Kohaku asked.

“It depends, but for daiyouki, we burn them.”

The boy considered this for a long moment, with a hum. “A fitting end, I would think. Rin was always a girl of passion. A woman of fire.” And then he paused. “I fear that I will follow soon,” he said quietly. “My bones hurt and even though I seem fine, my heart is tired.”

“I will allow you to be put to rest here,” Sesshoumaru said immediately.

At that, Kohaku looked to him, a smile easing across his lips. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask but… thank you.”

“Then what is it that you ask of me?”

“Find her again, and when you do, don’t let her go.”

It was like the boy was channeling his late father. And Sesshoumaru knew that he should have been reverent in this situation, but there was a sour taste in his mouth instead. Perhaps the tea had gone bad. “Rin is gone,” he said.

“And the world is a dimmer place,” Kohaku said, raising his cup of tea.

Sesshoumaru regarded it for a moment, and then lifted his cup, clinking them together.

She deserved better.

  
  


* * *

 

They didn’t hold a funeral.

Hiro helped him build a pyre, while Kohaku sat to the side and watched. Jaken cried profusely, tears streaming down his face, as he lamented about the stupid girl and her _humanity_. There might have been words about how cruel the Kami-sama were.

Hana and the twins showed up later that day, Kirara bearing their weight effortlessly as she landed with grace. Hana hugged him tightly, whispering her apologies, and for once, he returned the gesture. Had _everyone_ known?

The answer was clear, when they handed him the torch. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure that he could do this. He hadn’t looked at her yet, and when he stepped before her, he still didn’t want to. He didn’t want to set her alight, he didn’t want her to pass onto the next life.

He didn’t want that responsibility.

Finally he looked. And she looked like she was sleeping. Weathered and old, but still beautiful, her hair carefully coiled into a braid across her shoulder. She wore a plain yukata, something comfortable. She had never been one for being fancy.

And for the first time in his life, he felt stupid. Childish, self-centered and so very _stupid_.

He tipped the torch over her, and the brush caught.

It took longer than he would have thought, for her body to burn entirely.

He didn’t leave though, standing there the entire time.

  
  


* * *

 

He had thought about keeping her ashes.

But then he remembered something else his father had told him.

“ _The good thing about the Kami-sama is that they know love when they see it. Why else do we get second chances? If we don’t get our happy ending, then we surely will be reborn._ ”

So there he stood, on a high peak that overlooked the Western lands. There was a cave not far, and Rin had loved to camp there as a child.

He wasn’t a good man.

He was old and bitter, and very stupid.

But she had loved him.

And he had loved her.

He tipped over the bag in his hands, and her ashes fell. The wind that caught them carried over the Western Plains.

_Find her again, and when you do, don’t let her go._

He wondered how long he would have to wait.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will have a happy ending, I promise. 
> 
> I can't promise that it will be smooth sailing ahead.
> 
> I maintain that a person can love two people at the same time, wholeheartedly.


	2. 1740

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like Samurai? I like Samurai.
> 
> Also, an obligatory warning for fairly non-descriptive childbirth ahead.

**_1740_ **

 

* * *

 

To a youkai, two centuries was nothing.

To humans, it was several lifetimes.

Once the Shogun came into power, Sesshoumaru had been called to be a Daimyo. The man was a powerful youkai, and while it wasn’t that he thought he couldn't win against him, it more so that he was too lazy to pick a fight. And so, Sesshoumaru had never contested the appointment, falling into power over the Western Lands.

It wasn’t terrible, and the Shogun let him keep to himself, for the most part.

And he waited. For what exactly, he was still trying to figure it out, but he waited.

For a sign from the Kami-sama. For a sign from his Father. Even for a sign from Rin.

And he kept waiting, for two hundred years.

 

* * *

 

It was like looking into the past. The boy looked exactly the same, and it was _remarkable_.

“Sesshoumaru-sama, I do apologize for my sudden arrival,” he said, his forehead pressed into the ground, “I would have thought that Tokugawa-sama would have informed you of my hire.”

Yoshimune most certainly had _not_ , but Sesshoumaru only sighed at the thought. Usually, he ignored the Shogunate, but this particular man had tried at length to become _friends_ with him. It was tiring.

“If I displease you in anyway,” the boy continued with, “then all I ask of you is to spare my life, and merely send me back.”

A bold request, considering the honor code of the _samurai_. “That won’t be necessary.” The boy faltered in his bow slightly, seemingly surprised, not the he blamed him. “The Eastern Wing is yours.”

He moved to turn from him, prompting the boy to jolt to his feet. “An _entire wing_ , Sesshoumaru-sama?”

The boy was as green as the grass around them, and Sesshoumaru found it the slightest bit amusing. “Would you rather a closet? They might say terrible things about me, but I am not a bad host. Especially towards help hired by Tokugawa-san.” Even the name tasted ill in his mouth.

“I… I am aware that you likely have no need of me, Sesshoumaru-sama,” the boy replied, “but I swear upon the Gods, I will do my best!”

Gods above, even his personality was the same. Such insufferable, infallible _positivity_. It was clear now that Tokugawa-san was teasing him. He could just _imagine_ the oily smirk plastered across the old snake’s face. Sesshoumaru wouldn’t forget this.

“I look forward to it, Kohaku-san,” he said, in a rare, _rare_ show of friendship-- not that the boy would understand. And then he turned, to leave him in the courtyard alone. He still could hear the boy’s surprised gasp, followed by an exclamation, wondering _how_ he had known his proper name.

Rin would have been amused.

 

* * *

 

This time around, the boy was _Kohaku Hayashida-san_. Despite the name change though, he was exactly the same. Barely over twenty-five, he held the boyish charm that had captured Rin the first time around. And Kami-sama above, Sesshoumaru couldn’t bring himself to hate him. The friendship formed between the two of them in his past life, had stuck it seemed.

Kohaku was surprised to be asked to share tea with him, and visibly nervous to sit by his side.

And Sesshoumaru-sama had to remember that, even if _he_ knew him, the boy didn’t. And because of that, he had to tread lightly. As he learned more about the boy, he learned of the subtle differences.

He had no sister named Sango, but he _had_ grown up training as a taijiya. And this Kohaku, liked tea, specifically a neutral green brew, sweetened with a tiny bit of honey.

“And then my father decided to become a samurai. Ironic, right? But I supposed that he felt it was better to work for a youkai, than to be eaten by one,” Kohaku said, as he enjoyed his tea.

“And is that what you think we do?” Sesshoumaru asked casually, “Eat people?”

The boy turned red. “N-no, not at all, Sesshoumaru-sama. What I meant to say is--”

“It was a joke.” And it was, even if Kohaku was scared horrifically by it. “Joking aside,” he continued with, “The position of a samurai is an honorable one. Far more preferable to being a taijiya.”

At that, Kohaku scratched his head. “Eh, I guess. Once upon a time, samurai were feared. Now, we’re basically businessmen, acting on behalf of the shogunate. It’s not as though I’m unhappy about it, but… I mean… I feel like I’m itching to do something else.”

That intrigued Sesshoumaru. It seemed that despite his gravitation towards something else, he’d always fall on a similar path. “I knew the samurai of old,” Sesshoumaru told him. “They speak of honor, but they never talk about the short life-span. Many didn’t live to be old. I wouldn’t consider it a fair trade-off.”

Kohaku considered this, leaning back against the wall of the engawa. “I suppose that I wouldn’t want my life cut short. I have so much left to do.”

Sesshoumaru wondered how the boy would feel, if he learned that his past self had lived well into his eighties. Instead, he said, “Most humans don’t think like that. It does you well.”

“You know Sesshoumaru-sama, for a youkai who’s so well known for _hating_ my kind, you’ve been particularly friendly to me.” The boy meant it with good humor, but Sesshoumaru supposed that he hadn’t really realized the ease that had spread between them almost immediately. “There’s something about you though,” Kohaku continued with. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s like I’m speaking with an old friend.”

Sesshoumaru finished his tea quietly. “They say that youkai only grow old and bitter, never able to learn anything new.”

“And is that true, Sesshoumaru-sama?”

“I used to think so. Apparently I was wrong.”

And with that, he stood and left Kohaku alone.

 

* * *

 

Before Rin, having to share his space with a human for _any_ length of time, would have irritated him beyond mention. But Kohaku had been living in the Western Palace for nearly a year now, and Sesshoumaru hadn’t grown tired of him.

Except for this particular day.

Kohaku had always been a rather cheerful young man, but there was something off about him, and Sesshoumaru couldn't place a finger on it.

“Eh? You don’t remember Sesshoumaru-sama? My family is paying me a visit today.”

He blinked. Sesshoumaru had completely forgotten about it, because it had _nothing_ to do with him. Kohaku had promised that they wouldn’t stay for long, and Sesshoumaru had (against his better judgment), agreed to it.

He hadn’t realized that so much time had already passed.

“Are you so happy to see your family?” he asked the boy.

“Wouldn’t you be?” But Sesshoumaru didn’t answer, and Kohaku considered him for a moment. “Or are youkai not familial beings? In any case, it’s not so much my family. When my father wrote to me, he said that my betrothed was coming as well.”

 _That_ made Sesshoumaru’s heart skip a beat.

“Betrothed?” he asked, part of himself curious. The other part was kicking himself, _hard_.

At that, Kohaku flushed red. “I suppose that I’ve really never talked about her. Honestly, I do everything to not think of her, otherwise I miss her terribly.”

“So you are close, then? To this girl?”

At that, Kohaku smiled fondly. “My father made the match, but we’ve known each other since we were children. My precious little Rin-chan.”

It was like ice water had been dumped over him.

Of course. Of course, of course, _of course._

What a fool to think he was, to escape such a thing. This Kohaku was just like the last, so naturally, Rin would be part of the picture.

Hadn’t he waited for this day? Hadn’t he waited _two centuries_?

The Kohaku of the past had made him _promise_.

 _Don’t let her go_.

But this Kohaku was different, and he liked this boy. He liked his genial, friendliness, and he wanted him to be happy. And his Rin, made him happy.

It would be better to let them be.

 

* * *

 

 _Chichiue said that the Kami-sama were merciful, but this is a Gods-damn prank_.

The girl that stood before him, wasn’t the subservient wife of a samurai that he had come to know within the court. The girl that climbed down from the carriage was wearing _pants_ , and if the other ladies had seen such a thing, there would have been a lot to say.

But Kohaku’s family didn’t seem to mind her lack of kimono, or the fact that she was _definitely_  wearing a male haori. Her hair was tied up into a simple knot, forgoing any adornments. But despite her attire and lack of overall decorum, she was the same, _exactly the same_.

And it hurt.

Kohaku whisked her straight into his arms, and she laughed.

That hurt too.

For the first time since Kohaku had come to stay with him, he wanted to command him to leave. But he wouldn’t, because his old and withered heart had _enjoyed_ the stupid boy’s company. He had promised that they wouldn’t stay long.

He could do this. It was an easier mantra to say, than to execute, but if he reminded himself that the boy deserved happiness, it softened the blow the tiniest of bits. _He’s always been the good one._

Rin pulled away from the boy, turning to him though. And she didn’t bow, she smirked. “So you’re Sesshoumaru-sama, eh? Kohaku-kun writes to me about you constantly, I’ll have you know.” Kohaku moved to protest, but she swatted at him lightheartedly. “Honestly, I thought you’d be more handsome.” And with that, she linked her arm through the boy’s, and turned to lead him away.

And for the first time in his life, Sesshoumaru had _nothing_ to say in return.

 

* * *

 

True to Kohaku’s word, his family left after two days.

Rin stayed behind, much to his aggravation. But as the days wore on, he found her presence bearable, partially because she seemed to only have eyes for Kohaku.

It was better this way. Kohaku was the good and safe choice, and he would love her until the end of time. Hell, he had loved her _across_ time. His father was wrong, he _had_ no one, because surely she was for Kohaku instead.

One night, they sat out on the engawa, enjoying sake together.

“Kohaku always spoils the fun,” Rin whined.

“Early to bed, early to rise,” Sesshoumaru said to her, hiding the smallest hint of a smile behind his cup.

“Is that some old youkai prophecy?” she asked, completely serious.

“It’s common sense,” he replied.

She glared at him, throwing down the rest of her cup. It wasn’t the first time that they had shared sake together, and he knew that she could drink any man under the table, while managing to keep her wits about her. He had long since figured out that Kohaku turned in early on nights like this, because the boy couldn’t hold his liquor, and Rin was the teasing type.

“Say Sesshoumaru-sama, can I ask you a strange question?” she asked that night. He grunted noncommittally, refilling her cup. She moved to return the gesture, filling his. “Should I marry Kohaku-kun?”

He hadn’t expected such a question, and he found himself gripping his cup a lot harder than intended. “I’m not sure that my opinion is what matters,” he finally replied.

At that, Rin sighed, leaning against the outer wall of the house. “For most women, they don’t get a say, you know? Their fathers pick a man, and that’s that. Many don’t even see them until the day they are married. I’m lucky, I suppose. My father knows that I love Kohaku-kun, so he’s the one that he picked.”

“Then what is the problem?” Sesshoumaru asked her.

“There isn’t one,” she replied. “There isn’t one, and that’s the problem. I’m destined to live a disgustingly happy life, with a disgustingly perfect husband. We’ll have stupidly perfect children, and we’ll live until we’re stupidly old, and still stupidly in love.”

Sesshoumaru was almost certain that it was partially the alcohol that was talking, so he decided this would be the last cup for the night, covertly sliding the bottle away from them.

“Kohaku-san is one of the good ones,” he finally said. How many times would he tell her such a thing? “How often is it, that a woman gets to marry someone as such?”

“Once in a lifetime, I suppose,” was her wistful response.

Two life-times, in her case. She couldn’t _fathom_ her luck.

“It’s ironic, though,” she continued with.

“What is?”

“You,” she said with a small laugh. “Talking about Kohaku-kun, like he’s the only good man in the world. Where does that place you?”

At that, he looked at her, and she looked back to him. And Rin smiled, this _knowing_ smile, and it unnerved him. Finally, he finished the rest of his sake and said, “I believe that is enough for tonight, Rin-san.”

“You should just call me Rin,” she said, as she stood.

“Kohaku-san doesn’t even call you that,” Sesshoumaru said to her quietly.

“You aren’t Kohaku-kun,” she said to him, a wistful smile on her face, and suddenly everything seemed too familiar. But before he could say anything, she turned from him. “Good night, Sesshoumaru-sama.”

The next day, Sesshoumaru-sama asked Kohaku when they had planned the wedding for. The boy told him that there wasn’t a date yet, as nothing seemed convenient. Sesshoumaru told him to do it as soon as possible, and that he would allow for them to use his home.

It was the first time that the boy had ever hugged him.

It was also the first time time that he wasn’t _completely_ repulsed.

 

* * *

 

Just like her last wedding, this one wasn’t a grand affair.

And just like last time, it suited them.

 

* * *

 

As time wore on, the Shogunate became unstable, and war came to the Western Plains.

“You don’t have to go,” Sesshoumaru said to Kohaku.

But the boy said nothing, as he hoisted himself onto his horse. “Sesshoumaru-sama,” he finally said, “Originally, I was hired to protect your honor. But it has been _five years_ , since I’ve come to live here, and these lands are now my home as well. It isn’t about you any longer, it’s about everything that I love. I must protect it.”

He wanted to tell the boy that he was stupid, that _he_ should do the protecting, because out of the two of them, he was far less fragile. But Kohaku was stubborn too, at times, because he had learned from the best. Sesshoumaru knew that his words would fall on deaf ears.

“Have you at least said goodbye to Rin?” he finally asked.

And judging by the regretful smile that fell across Kohaku’s face, the answer was no. “I’ve written her two letters,” he said. “The first is somewhere where she will find it.”

“And the second?”

Kohaku shifted slightly, pulling parchment from his breastplate. “I leave it with you, Sesshoumaru-sama. If I don’t come back… please give this to her.”

“You will come back,” Sesshoumaru said to him. He wouldn’t allow it, this child to not come back to Rin. But Kohaku only closed his eyes a sighed, thinking for a moment. Then, he hitched the reins of his horse, moving to turn away. “Kohaku!”

It was beneath Sesshoumaru to plead, but he ran after the stupid boy.

He ran, until he knew it didn’t matter anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Did you know about this?” Rin asked him quietly.

“I tried to stop him,” he said to her, leaning against the door frame of her and Kohaku’s room. He had never stepped foot here before, and it felt wrong, like he was intruding. Rin didn’t seem to care. “I knew nothing, until it was too late.”

“Samurai are wistful when you are young,” she said woefully. “But the older you become, the more you realize how stupid children are.”

“Children aren’t stupid,” Sesshoumaru chided. Centuries ago, he would have agreed with her, but by this point in life, he had watched several of them grow up. Children were inquisitive creatures, and often times, held more wisdom than a full-grown adult.

“You don’t seem the type to be fond of them,” she mused. “I suppose one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” Then she paused, reaching out to touch Kohaku’s letter once more. “Tell me, Sesshoumaru-sama-- How would you feel about being called Sesshoumaru Oji-san?”

This time, he didn’t freeze.

This time, he felt anger.

 

* * *

 

Kohaku would never come back.

And Sesshoumaru had known, he _had known_. The moment that his horse had crested the horizon, and the boy disappeared from his sight, he had known that it would be the last time he ever saw him.

He didn’t give Rin the letter, despite that.

And she held onto whatever strand of hope that she had left. And as the weeks passed, her belly swelled with the child inside. He hadn’t ever seen her pregnant before, only visiting in the aftermath.

It suited her, even if she lacked the _glow_ that was so often associated with carrying a child.

She was near her due date, when the notice came.

He stared at the parchment in his hand sadly, despite having expected it. And then came Rin, waddling slowly around the corner, prepared to give him a weary smile. But then she saw his face, and his lips pulled into a tight frown.

Rin gasped, pulling her hands to her lips, trying to hold back a sob. “Sesshoumaru-sama, tell me no,” she said, going to him.

“Rin--”

“Tell me that he’s coming home!”

And he couldn’t, he couldn’t find the words. He had never been able to _lie_ to her. And so she hit him, her tiny hand curled into a tiny fist of rage, beating on his chest. She knew that it wouldn’t hurt him, and she knew that it wasn’t his fault.

But he let her be angry, if only for the moment.

Because afterwards, she fell against him, crying. “Stupid!” she sobbed. “Why must he be so _stupid_.”

He had never seen Rin cry as an adult.

And he never wanted to see it again.

 

* * *

 

Over his long life, Sesshoumaru had experienced a vast number of things, but he never thought that he would ever witness _childbirth_ firsthand.

Rin had insisted that she travel with him to retrieve her husband’s remains, and every logical part of him had screamed that it was a _terrible idea_. Rin shouldn’t be traveling, so close to the end of her pregnancy. He had been about to tell her as such, but he saw the _look_ in her eye, and he knew that it would have been pointless.

She would have followed him regardless, and at least _this_ way, she was safe.

Of course, that was the case, until her water broke, and she went into labor.

And because the Kami-sama were cruel, _cruel_ beings, there wasn’t a human village remotely near, and it wasn’t safe to move her. So instead, they had hunkered down into a cave for the night, intent on making the best of the worst possible situation, of his entire life.

Rin could do this, she _had_ done this. She had birthed four healthy children, in a previous life. But then that pang of fear fluttered through him, and he remembered that while she was Rin, she also _wasn't_ her.

“My mother once told me that childbirth was the most amazing experience in the world,” she said lightly, trying to make a joke. She leaned against the cave wall, sweat beading along her brow, grimacing as a contraction rolled through her. “I’m absolutely certain that she was lying.”

It wasn’t often that Sesshoumaru-sama didn’t know what to do. He had _heard_ Rin give birth before. He remembered some of the things that Kagome had told the girl, and some of the aftercare, in regards to the pup.

But the rest of it was an absolutely mystery.

“Hey, Sesshoumaru-sama,” Rin managed to breathe, “You wouldn’t have happened to ever… you know, _helped_ a woman out with this before? Have any little pups out there, that you might have sired?”

Where it any other situation, such an accusation might have been funny.

“I will admit to you Rin… I have no idea what to do.”

Rin laughed, throwing her head back at the absurdity of it all. “Ah well, you’re in luck. My mother at least explained it to me. I’ll need your help though. Do me a favor and take a look?”

Sesshoumaru, who was busy trimming his claws as a distraction, turned even paler than he thought was possible. “Look _where_.”

“Oh you know,” she started with, and then finished with a vague hand gesture down _there_.

Oh no, no, _no_. And she must have seen the slight _panic_ on his face, because she immediately followed up with, “I don’t care if you see it, what I care about is delivering a child _safely_. My stupid husband went to war, and because he’s now dead, we’re stuck out here in the middle of  _who knows where_ , and now you’re going to have to look at _you know what_. So really, if anything, blame Kohaku-- _Ahhhh._ ”

Before she could complain again, he did as he was told, trying to remain clinical about the situation. It was easier than he would have thought. And everything _looked_ okay, as far as he could tell.

“Rin--”

“Just shut up,” she snapped, “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

And again, Sesshoumaru did as he was told. The only good advice that Kagome had ever given to him was to _shut up, and let a pregnant woman do her thing_. Rin had done her own thing for months, and this time seemed to be no exception.

As time wore on, she only yelled louder, cursing Kohaku to the seven hells. And then, something changed, and Rin got quiet for a moment. “Sesshoumaru,” she gasped, forgetting all about honorifics and propriety, but he supposed that it wasn’t important at that particular moment.

“Rin--”

“I think it’s time.”

“ _Time--_ ” Oh. _Oh_.

“Gods above, why do women willingly do this,” she grunted, shifted her position slightly. Instead of leaning against the wall, she was half kneeling, half crouching, insisting that it felt _easier_ this way. As if bearing a child was easy.

“Alright,” she said, mustering up the calmest tone she could manage. Sesshoumaru was actually impressed, because the entire room was a massive assault against his senses at the moment. “Just know that I apologize for hurting your ears.”

His ears had been ringing for hours, but it was perhaps, _not_ the best time to mention it. And Rin did her damnedest to accommodate him, which was absolutely ridiculous, because she was the one _having a child_.

The baby was slick in his hands, as he helped guide it, and when it wailed, it was a welcome shrill, despite the harm it caused him. Because the child was alive and _healthy_. And once again, Sesshoumaru was the first to see it.

This time, a girl.

He pulled his haori off with ease, and Rin started tiredly, but he shushed her. Swaddling the child up, he passed it over to her, and she wearily took her, laying the girl across her chest. And when she went to feed her, he started to look away, causing Rin to laugh, her voice hoarse.

“You’ve literally seen _everything_ at this point, Sesshoumaru-sama. It’s not as if it matters. Come and look.”

So instead, he leaned closer to her, watching with curious interest, because this was something _new_ to him.

“You have terrible timing, kid,” she sighed quietly.

“Kohaku-san would be proud,” Sesshoumaru said quietly.

“He had a name picked out and everything,” she whispered. “Of course, it was a male name, because he was convinced this little one would be a boy.”

“He would have loved a girl, just the same.” Because of Rin’s four previous children, Hana had been the undisputed favorite.

“Sesshoumaru-sama, would you name her?”

“Rin-san, I--”

“ _Please_.” It was a plead, a tired and exhausted one, but she would keep insisting, he already knew it. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” It was then that he realized that she wasn’t just talking about the birth, but rather _everything_ that had happened, since Kohaku had so foolishly left.

And so, his lips quirked into the tiniest of grins. “You should name her Sango-chan.”

“Sango-chan,” Rin whispered affectionately. “I don’t know why, but it seems perfect.”

Perfect, indeed.

 

* * *

 

Kohaku’s family had pleaded with her to move back. Rin had refused.

Her own family had requested for her to come home as well. Rin also refused them.

When Sesshoumaru asked her for a reason years later, she only shrugged at him, leaning against the engawa. They were sharing sake again, something that wasn’t a common occurrence at this point, but a once-in-awhile indulgence.

“Why should I leave the place, where I have my best memories?” she asked him pleasantly. “Besides, Kohaku-kun would have probably wanted me to stay here.”

He still had not given her the letter. He didn’t know why, but there had never been a time that felt right. Not after they had burned Kohaku's remains. Or when even when Sango-chan started walking.

Without a word, he stood, startling Rin, and told her that he would be right back. It was right where he had tucked it away, and despite being a tad dusty, it had faded with age. When he sat back down next to Rin, she regarded him curiously.

“When Kohaku-san took his leave, he left behind a letter.”

“Yes, upon my nightstand. I remember being quite angry about it.”

“Not _that_ letter,” he said, holding out his hand. “He left this one with me. In the event of his death, I was to give it to you.”

She stared at it dumbly. “Sesshoumaru-sama, that was nearly a decade ago.”

“I admit, that there never seemed to be a right time.”

But Rin didn’t seem angry as she broke open the seal, unfolding it. And then she laughed. “Are you sure that he said to give this to me?”

“I might be old, Rin-san, but don’t _forget_.”

“This letter is addressed to _you_ though.”

At that, he paused, his sake cup frozen before his lips. Reaching out, took it from her, handling the paper with care, as if it’d burn him. A ridiculous notion, but he couldn’t fathom why the boy would address him.

_To Sesshoumaru-sama,_

_Despite everything that others have said about you, I truly believe that you are a good man. Please take care of Rin. She’s quite fond of you._

_Hayashida Kohaku_

It was like a punch to the gut. What was it he had thought all those years ago? That despite taking a different path, the boy had somehow gravitated back towards something familiar. And Rin had done exactly the same thing, staying by his side.

He looked to her again, as she sipped her sake. “Had you truly never read that?”

“I, unlike some, value the privacy of others.”

She gave him a shrewd look, that morphed into an amused smile. “He was right you know, I _am_ quite fond of you. I even let you name my child. And I suppose that you have taken quite good care of me.”

“Nonsense, you take care of yourself. It just happens to be under my roof.”

“Yes well, I don’t plan on leaving this roof either.”

Silence fell over them, and he moved to pour her one more drink. She did the same. “Sesshoumaru-sama, when I die, will you remember me?” The first time she had asked this, she had been a child, and the answer had come immediately.

But he had failed her in the end, and she had died bitter and angry.

“Always, Rin,” he said.

“Well then, let’s toast to that.”

They lifted their cups and clinked them together. And Sesshoumaru smiled.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. 1877

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research about the spread of Steam Engines in Japan, for this chapter... despite the fact that trains are mentioned once. The original Honshu Steam Line expanded to Kyoto in 1877.

**_1877_ **

 

* * *

 

 

Sesshoumaru tried to keep track of Rin’s family, but it was hard. Record keeping wasn’t good, and contrary to popular belief, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

The last Rin had vastly outlived the first. Despite her heartbreak over Kohaku-san, she had lived until she was old, wrinkled and gray, barely able to move. She raised Sango-chan right, and despite the wishes of others, she never left his home, opting to stay where she _made her precious memories_.

He did her right, that time, he felt, forging a friendship that would last their lifetime. Though… he half-suspected that Rin knew how lonely he’d have been, had she left. It would have been a _very_ Rin-like thing to do. Sango-chan had grown into a fine young woman, married as well and then… Well, he lost hold of her.

Time shifted, the Shogunate fell out of favor, and the country struggled with the turn back towards Imperialism. Soon almost one hundred years had passed, since he met Hayashida Rin-san, and nearly sixty since she had passed. He was disturbed to think the time had passed so quickly-- it was just over halfway into the nineteenth century, and what did he have to show for it?

Humans infested the land now, and youkai had dwindled to a mere handful. He didn’t bother to hide himself, but people stayed far away from him, claiming things like _curses_ and _Tsukimono-suji_ , despite the fact that he wasn’t a kitsune to begin with.

That day was no exception. He didn’t often venture into the realm of humans, because he found it exhausting, but he had _things_ to take care of, and the sooner he did so, the better. Then he could retreat back to the West, hiding in his ancestral lands. Kyoto was bustling, despite the capital being moved elsewhere, and his nose twitched, assaulted by the rancid smells of _humankind_.

Really, they were disgusting creatures.

Suddenly, someone knocked into him, letting out a small cry as she fell towards the ground. Sesshoumaru had barely felt her, but turned, reaching out to grab her. She latched onto his sleeve, accidentally ripping it, as she yanked to balance herself. “Child, watch--” But his words fell silent as he caught hold of her wrist.

It was Rin staring back at him, no more than a child around ten years of age. It was like the wind had been punched right from his gut.

He minded his claws about her wrist, helping her right herself.

Immediately, she fretted about his ripped sleeve. “Apologies _youkai-sama_ ,” she blabbered. “I didn’t see you and I didn’t mean to ruin your sleeve. I--”

“Are you alright?” he asked immediately.

The girl blinked. “I… er… well _yes_.”

“Hn,” he grunted, gently pulling his sleeve from her grasp. “Then there is no harm done.”

“No harm?” she squeaked. “Surely your garment has been ruined!”

“It is of no consequence,” he said to her, unsure why his tone was so gentle. Even if she was a child, there was no point in trying to _soothe_ her. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to reach out, and brush her bangs back, reassuring her that it was fine.

He had missed that familial feeling, he realized.

“Tea!” she blurted suddenly. “At least take some tea! My family own a teahouse just a block over-- _Ito’s Tea Home_. If you come by, surely my father will apologize.”

“With tea,” Sesshoumaru asked dryly.

“The best in all of Kyoto, I swear to you!”

“Little girl,” he found himself asking. “How is it that you knew I was a youkai?”

“Eh? Doesn’t _everyone_ know that?” Well, she wasn’t exactly _wrong_ , he supposed. He had a certain look about him, that he couldn’t really hide. Despite her uninspired observation, he found his lips twitching the slightest bit. The first Rin had been a quiet child, very unlike this one.

“Perhaps I will stop by tea, then,” he said to her.

And the girl _beamed_ at him, her smile wide and bright, and missing a tooth right in the front. “I’m Rin-chan! Thank you, youkai-sama!” And then she found her footing and ran from him.

And he watched her, despite the awkward stares and whispers of those around him. He yearned to go to the tea house, to meet her family and learn about _this_ Rin. He _had_ missed the friendship and family that he had found with the last.

But in the end, he didn’t go. Instead, he took care of his business curtly, and went back home.

He would forever regret it.

 

* * *

 

With the start of a new era, changes came. The capital of Japan moved, suddenly one couldn’t wear swords in public and Imperial power had returned to the throne-- this time, the Emperor a _human_ , of all things.

With the slow and gradual disappearance of youkai from the land, Sesshoumaru found himself withdrawing from the public eye, opting to live in solitude. It wasn’t anything different than before, he supposed. He still had Ah-Un, and much to his aggravation, Jaken. He had lived this way for centuries, and this time would be no different.

But then the Meiji Era began, and humans moved into his lands and he became _annoyed_. Not angry, but mildly aggravated. How he had changed over the years. His father was laughing at him from his grave.

Despite that though, he let them settle, telling himself as long as they didn’t _bother_ him, he would let them be. Eventually, he became curious though, and decided to visit their pathetic excuse for a village… only to find it a thriving community along the seaside, complete with a trade port and a bustling market. Humans swept by him, offering gentle bows and mutterings of _Sesshoumaru-sama._ Jaken had ensured that they knew who he was, and that they lived on his land.

And then he came across the tea house, his eyes narrowing at the sign. _Ito’s Tea Home_.

Suddenly, a young girl popped into his mind, her gap-toothed grin spread wide across her face, as she offered him tea. How long ago had that been? He wasn’t good with years. Still…

He was unable to stop his feet from moving towards the building, and he entered, brushing aside the curtain at the entrance. The interior was dark and warm, but clean and tidy. He could tell that the tea they served was at least of high quality, just by the smell.

“Such elegance!” a voice said to his right. “Such clothing! You must be our Lord Sesshoumaru-sama,” the man said, sliding up to his side. “To think that you would visit our humble little tea house--” He paused to bow, and Sesshoumaru found himself frowning.

He had never liked when Kohaku-san did such a thing, and this time, it was no different.

This time he was a bit older, easily into his thirties. He lacked the tanned skin that he often associated with the boy, and the calloused skin of a warrior. Instead he was paler and thinner, with a slighter frame. Probably because he owned a tea house, instead of fighting youkai for a living.

But there was that tug in his gut, because whenever Sesshoumaru came across the boy, that usually meant that not far behind would be--

Rin turned the corner, carrying a tray full of teacups. He watched carefully as she smiled, serving the table she stood by effortlessly. His eyes traced her form, finding her belly swollen with pregnancy.

“Come, come!” Kohaku-san said to him, shuffling him into the tea house. Sesshoumaru surprised himself by not fighting against it, instead padding along after the man and into the restaurant proper. “I’m Kohaku Tanaka, and welcome to my tea house!” He was seated in the back corner, away from prying eyes.

The boy left, before he could order though, leaving the daiyoukai to sit there awkwardly. Half of him wanted to leave. It wanted to bolt, to _get out_ , before something terrible happened. He never boded well for the two, and this time, he had thought about leaving them be again.

It was why he had never gone to the tea house in the first place.

But it seemed that the Kami-sama were _still_ cruel, and _still_ had a terrible sense of humor, because it seemed as though the tea house had found him instead.

Rin turned the corner and stopped by his table abruptly, a tray easily slipped underneath her arm. She looked at him without hatred, or even ill intent, instead her eyes shining with curiosity. And he looked back, waiting for her to speak. Finally she did.

“You know, I often wondered if I had imagined it.” She set the teacup down on his table, a well-fired cylinder of impressive pottery. The quality of the ceramic spoke to their success as a tea house. “Bumping into _youkai-sama_ ,” she said, fondness creeping into her voice. She set the teapot down next, the steam escaping from the long spigot. “When I told my father what happened, he laughed at me, thinking I was crazy. ‘Really, Rin-chan,’ he said, ‘A youkai-sama, right on the street? What a wild imagination.’ Despite that, he agreed to honor the tea, in the event that you showed up.”

He said nothing, as she sat in the seat opposite without asking. She reached out, lifting the lid and stirring the tea gently. Finally, she placed the lid back on and grasping the pot gently in her hands, delicately poured out a cup for him. “But then you never came.” She motioned to the cup, waiting for him to pick it up.

Sesshoumaru looked at her, _really_ looked at her. This Rin wasn’t much different than the others. Younger than Kohaku, likely into her twenties. Skin pale and perfect, her finely boned face a tad rounder than her other incarnations-- likely due to carrying a child. Her hair was shorter though, cut around her chin and unable to be pinned up.

“How is it you wound up here, of all places?” he asked, instead of giving her a reason. He could tell that his dancing around the topic annoyed her slightly, but she didn’t push it further.

“My father wanted to open a second location, and the land out here was cheap. We didn’t know until we moved here, that a youkai lorded over it.”

“They _sold_ my land?” He had always assumed that humans had just _settled_ there, albeit without permission.

“Would you have stopped it?” she asked, her eyes flashing. Well, no, probably not. He wanted not for money and taking matters into his own hands sounded like more of a headache than he would have wanted. But again, words didn’t come naturally to him, and for one of the few times in his life, he actually felt _awkward_. “I suppose not,” she said. “That would be far beneath you.”

Her words surprised him. “You speak to me as though you know me, Ito-san,” he said, referencing the name of the teahouse. The original had been her father’s, it was the logical conclusion.

“Ah, that would be _Tanaka-san_ , my lord,” she said to him. “I do believe that my husband introduced himself at least.” She rubbed at her belly absently as she continued. “But what is there to know? You Lords are all the same, be it youkai or human.”

“We are _not_ the same,” Sesshoumaru said quickly, and Rin paused to look at him with amusement. Finally, she motioned to the cup that he held in his hand.

“Best drink it while it’s still hot, you know. Nothing worse than lukewarm tea, and it’s not like anyone else drinks that rubbish around here.”

Before Sesshoumaru could properly reply, Rin hoisted herself to her feet, and left him.

Married to Kohaku-san for a third time in a row, pregnant, glowing and happy. His father’s words floated through his head again, causing him to frown. _They say that the Kami-sama bless those that are good, with someone just for them_ . He didn’t pretend to know what the Kami-sama were thinking, but it was clear that Kohaku-san was the _good_ one here.

It had taken three lifetimes to finally admit it, but the boy _deserved_ her.

But then, he remembered something else. _Even if we stray from that person, we are given as many chances as we need to find them again._

He _supposed_ that the two had never truly had a happy ending, but…

Sesshoumaru was rather disturbed by the idea that perhaps Kohaku wasn’t the one for her. He wasn’t a fool, he had _long_ since come to terms with how he properly felt. But Rin had always been a naive little girl, and he _wasn’t_ a good match, no matter what the kami-sama wished for. The situation had always proposed the boy as a better choice, and so…

He sighed, his fingers curling around the mug. What had happened in the past wasn’t relevant anymore, and this time around, she was already married, with a child on the way. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip, pausing the moment that the tea hit his tongue. _Dan Cong Oolong_ , a rare blend that was only sourced from the mainland. He regarded his cup carefully, his eyes narrowed. It was his favorite, preferring it far more than any other blend, despite it’s rather bitter taste.

 _It’s not like anyone else drinks that rubbish around here_.

A dash of milk, and no sugar, stirred gently. How had Rin known?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He told himself that it was because the tea house had his favorite tea.

Of course, he also had some at his home. And, being incredibly picky about how it is brewed, he preferred to make it himself. Truly, he had only taken the cup that Rin had provided the day before, out of propriety.

Then he told himself it was because Rin could apparently brew it perfectly.

Kohaku-san was pleased, but surprised to see his Lord show up the next day, shuffling him with a smile and frenzied hand motions. “I must say, Sesshoumaru-sama, I had not thought you’d come by again!”

Sesshoumaru opened his mouth to answer, but Rin turned the corner of the entrance, resting a tray along her hip. “I assured him that our tea is the best,” she said, smirking. Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. Yes, she had, when she was a _child_. “Seems that he agrees.”

Sesshoumaru turned back to Kohaku-san, to find the man’s eyes positively shining. “Then you are always welcome, Sesshoumaru-sama! Please, please, come in!”

He was seated in the same booth as the day before, and within a few moments, there was Rin, her trusty tray held with a careful hand. This time though, the tea wasn’t yet brewed, the tin of leaves topping platter, next to a teapot. She sat across him, gently lowering herself into the chair. “There’s no need to brew it personally,” he said to her.

But Rin tutted, setting about to do exactly that. She opened the tin, pinched a few of the leaves and dropped them into the cup. “Nonsense. The only reason you came back is _because_ of the tea that I brewed.”

“How did you know?” The words slipped before he could stop them, and she paused, before pouring the water into the cup.

“My father was a tea master; he taught me everything that I know.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said coolly, but Rin made no move to explain further.

They sat there quietly as the tea brewed. Eventually, she poured it into the cup. Next that followed was a tiny amount of milk, and then a spoon to stir it gently. When she deemed it perfectly, she held the cup out to Sesshoumaru, who took it quietly.

“Why was it that you never came?” she finally asked. She didn’t seem angry, merely curious, her eyes glittering and her cheeks warmed with a rosy glow.

“There was no need,” he answered, sipping at the tea. Just as the day before, it was perfectly to his taste. That bothered him more than he would like to have admitted. “Clothing is easily procured, and nothing was lost.”

“And you never once thought about the child?” At that, his gaze met her face, confused. “I spent a whole month thinking that I had offended you, by offering something as lowly as _tea_ . Of course my parents didn’t believe a word that I said, but I _knew_.”

He had never thought of such a thing, or how it might affect a child. Part of him felt foolish.

“It’s no matter,” she said with a wave. “I eventually got over it.”

“And then you met Kohaku-san?”

Rin smiled at the mention of his name, wide and easy. “My father picked him,” she said. “At first the idea of a husband terrified me, but Kohaku-kun charmed me with his warm smile and infectious personality. He was one of my father’s students.”

“And so, a tea house,” he said, looking around them.

“My father had always wanted to open a second location, so it was the natural choice.”

“And so you picked _my_ lands.”

Rin shrugged. “The village was lacking in decent food and drink. Not to mention we’re only a day’s trip from Kyoto. Of course, we haven’t visited in awhile.”

Sesshoumaru hummed gently, motioning to her stomach. “Because of the child.”

“I swear, this one is as energetic as Kohaku-kun. He’ll be just like his father.”

“He?”

“Oh, I just _know_.”

His lips quirked into a small, tiny little smirk, and Rin beamed at him. He lifted his teacup and said, “Then may the kami-sama bring you good fortune and the healthiest of children.”

Rin smiled back.

 

* * *

 

Twice a week, he took tea at the little tea house.

And twice a week, he chatted with both Rin and Kohaku.

And over the months, they became friends.

 

* * *

 

“Kohaku-san, a taijiya?” he asked her, sipping from his teacup.

“It’s ridiculous, I know! If I hadn’t broken my arm, I likely wouldn’t have met Rin!” the man replied with a laugh. That day, he shared tea with not only Rin, but the boy as well. And he found it welcome company.

“Yes, my husband, a mighty taijiya,” Rin sighed with boredom. “The man who can’t even kill a spider, and has to come and get _me_ \--”

“Rin-chan!” he said, nearly spitting out his tea with embarrassment.

And then Sesshoumaru laughed, honestly _laughed_ , causing the both of them to look at him warily. Rin raised an eyebrow and Kohaku paled. But he assured them that nothing was wrong, and to continue their bantering.

It was odd to find comfort it in, but he did.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Kyoto_?” Sesshoumaru hissed, his fingers tightening around the cup in his hand.

Rin waved off his concern. “It’s not _that_ far.”

“Rin-san, you’re pregnant,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, frowning. “Yes, remind me of the obvious, _cow_ that I am.”

His immediate response would have been to deny that she was such a thing, but he caught the words as soon as he thought them. Instead, he said, “You shouldn’t travel so far. Trust me, I know from experience.”

At that, Rin smirked. “What, do you have little pups running around that I don’t know about?” Before he could retort, she laughed at him, and he sighed. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” she continued with. “How often do they open a _steam train line_?” Her eyes shone with excitement.

And he _knew_ that Kohaku-san wouldn't be able to say no to that face. And neither could he.

“Then I will accompany you both.” She froze and so did he. He wasn’t sure why he had offered, he _shouldn’t_ have offered. But he did, and it was too late, and Rin stood from her end of the table. Before he could stop her, she threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Sesshoumaru-sama,” she breathed, pulling back. “Kohaku-san will be thrilled. I daresay that he idolizes you.”

He wanted to sink into her warmth, but instead he pulled away properly. What had he gotten himself into?

 

* * *

 

They arrived in Kyoto with little trouble. It wasn’t a hard trip really, but Sesshoumaru-sama had brought Ah-Un to help. Despite the age of the dragon, he seemed thankful for the exercise, easily hauling the two humans, as Sesshoumaru followed behind.

Sesshoumaru finds out that the American that oversaw the construction of the railway, has been invited for tea at her father’s establishment. He has little want for anything _political_ in nature, but he decides to go anyway, if only to keep an eye on the two kids.

Kohaku-san was so cheerful about any and everything, that he found it hard to believe that the boy had _grown_ up there. Rin waddled beside him slowly, Kohaku doubling back every other step to check on her. She wasn’t _close_ to her due date, but she was close enough for that initial dread to settle in his stomach, but… this time there was her family here. She wasn’t alone.

The original _Ito’s Tea Home_ was larger and much older, subtle wear and tear tugging at the building. The inside was warm and cozy though, and he instantly felt at home. He could see the appeal of such a place, and why it was popular. Combined with decent food and good tea, it was a treasure.

Ito-san himself looked like Rin, tall and thin, but the same round and rosy cheeks that she had. Her mother was a slight woman, short, but he could tell that she was a feisty woman, just by the way that she looked at him-- Warily, with a shrewd and narrowed glare.

For the first time in his life, Sesshoumaru might have considered himself _scared._

Rin went up to them, hugging each, and then pulling back said, “Remember youkai-sama from my childhood?” Her father managed to nod, causing Rin to smile widely and motion to Sesshoumaru. “He’s finally come for his cup of tea!”

 

* * *

 

Kohaku had become such a steadfast friend over the months, it felt odd to share tea alone with Rin. But her father had whisked him away to go serve the guest of honor proper tea, leaving them behind.

“Odd, that he would pick Kohaku-san over you. You brew better tea.”

“Ah, about that,” Rin started, sitting down next to him. “It seems that Americans find it odd to see a woman working. He didn’t want to risk offending Crowford-san.”

“So he risks offending him with sub-par tea?”

“Well, American’s don’t drink it much, so I doubt he’ll notice the difference.” Rin laughed at her joke. A server brought them a tray that held a tea set, and two types of leaves. The moment Rin pinched them between her fingers, he could tell it was the special blend of Oolong.

“Your father has this blend too?”

“You enjoy tea, but we wouldn’t be showing you our best if it wasn’t your favorite,” she said simply.

“You still haven’t explained to me how you _knew_ \--”

“Does it matter?” Rin looked at him inquisitively.

Yes, it did matter. There were too many things that he didn’t know, that he didn’t quite understand. And the more he thought about them, the more it bothered him. As old as he was, there will still things that mystified him. And of course, his father’s famous words.

But as always, she didn’t explain, instead going about making his tea. The moment that she handed him the cup, she groaned, moving to rub at her stomach. “Ugh, I can’t wait until this baby is born,” she mumbled. “I’m fat, ugly, and everything hurts.”

“You are the _farthest_ thing from ugly,” he said immediately, his cup near his lips. Rin cocked her head to the side, looking at him. _Well, that wasn’t what he had meant to say_. “What I mean to say is that pregnancy suits you.”

At that, she laughed. “Kohaku-kun says the same thing. It’s a damn lie, but appreciated nonetheless.”

“Perhaps you should _listen_ to him,” he said quietly. “Kohaku-san isn’t wrong very often.”

“He’s my husband. Three-quarters of our marriage is overt flattery.” She had meant it as a joke, but there was an odd tinge to her words.

“Are you happy?” he found himself asking, placing his teacup back on the table. “Kohaku-kun treats you well, and there’s not much that I could do to change that.”

“Of course I’m happy,” she said to him, “but it’s not myself that I worry about.”

That caused him to regard her carefully. “There is no reason to worry about me,” he said quietly.

“You should worry about your own life, instead of mine, Sesshoumaru-sama,” she replied, with a sad smile, “Youkai might live for a long time, but they still only live once.”

He paused, suddenly disturbed. Rin looked at him like she _knew_ , and there was a part of him that wanted to _panic_ . But it would make sense, he surmised. Otherwise, how _would_ she had known about his tea? Aside from it being a lucky guess.

He complained about the Kami-sama being cruel, but it seemed that this time around, their cruelty knew no bounds. Before he could respond properly though, she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it to her.

“Here, feel,” she said softly, pressing his hand against her swollen belly. He’d listened to her give birth, and even helped deliver her last one, but never had he _felt_ the child in her womb. He minded his claws, and then he felt it, the subtle kick against his hand.

“It’s amazing what life offers us,” she said fondly. “Husbands, children, _happiness_. And then there is you, all alone. What path do you wish to follow, Sesshoumaru-sama?”

He didn’t answer, and she didn’t expect him to. Instead, he kept his hand on her belly, marveling at the little life that kicked at his palm.

 

* * *

 

For the first time, Rin’s child didn’t survive.

And neither did Rin.

 

* * *

 

He lit the incense, setting it upon her grave.  And then one, for her little boy. He didn’t press his hands together in prayer though, finding it useless. Praying to the dead didn’t do anything. Even praying to the living didn’t do anything, because despite asking for the Kami-sama’s favor, they had turned their backs on him.

Perhaps it was because Rin was doomed to be unhappy in every life.

Perhaps it was because he _let_ her be that way.

“You don’t seem the type to pray,” a voice said from behind him. Perhaps his senses were getting worse with age, or perhaps Kohaku had completed more of his taijiya training than he had let on.

“Does it look like I’m praying?”

At that, the boy laughed. “Ah, no, but still. Odd to find you here.”

“I come here every year,” he said quietly, finally looking to Kohaku-san.

He wasn’t a boy anymore though. He wasn’t _old_ either, barely gray in his hair, with the faintest of wrinkles around his mouth. But like always, he was struck by how much time had passed, and how he hadn’t noticed.

“She knew, you know,” Kohaku said. Sesshoumaru didn’t need for him to explain what he was talking about. She had _always_ known who he was, from the moment that he met her as a little girl, to the day that she breathed her last. The spark of recognition. The tea. Her odd advice.

That was the day that he had realized it, the day that she asked him what path he wished for. Not the one that he chose, but the one that he longed for. The one that he ignored.

And because of that, Rin had died again.

“And you realized it too,” Kohaku continued with.

“She married _you_ .” The words came out harsher than he wanted, but the boy didn’t mind. He sighed. “She _talked_ to you about it?”

“Of _course_ she did,” he said, sounding hurt. “I was her husband, she told me _everything_. She loved me, but she loved you too, and she felt guilty about it.”

“And what about it, Kohaku-san? How did you feel about it?”

Kohaku smiled sadly, and the silence stretched between them, the incense on her grave burning lower and lower. Finally, he spoke. “I _told_ you to find her again, and to not let her go. How long will you wait?” Sesshoumaru froze, looking to Kohaku. But he only looked at him with pity, before reaching out out grasping his shoulder in a gentle squeeze. “It’s _alright_ , you know.”

More, and more familiar words. Once again, Kohaku had asked him to watch over her, and just like Rin, _he had known_. The world worked in the weirdest of ways.

“This will be the last time,” Sesshoumaru finally said. “I will find her next time, and I will _never_ let her go.”

And then Kohaku smiled.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will remind you that there is a bright light, at the end of the tunnel. We're just not even halfway there yet.


	4. 1923

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great Kanto Earthquake happened in 1923, and the death toll was well over one hundred thousand people.

**_1923_ **

  
  


* * *

 

 

He promised Kohaku-san. He had promised the boy that he would find her, and so he did. 

But despite that promise, he hesitated, he  _ always _ hesitated.

This time she was young again, just learning how to cook over the fire. Once again, her family owned a tea house, this time in the Tokyo area. And just like the last, he had shared a cup there. The little girl, barely eleven, fumbling around as she boiled the water and prepared the leaves. Her mother, gently laughing and showing her the proper way. He didn’t mind, watching as his lips twitched slightly.

But he hesitated.

For too long.

An earthquake hit, pummeling the land. Buildings fell and fires raged. And when he went to survey the damage--

The tea house was gone, a hollow shell of a building, its burnt crust crumbling away in the slight breeze. People around him, youkai and humans alike, mourning their lost loved ones, their homes,  _ everything that they owned _ .

He never Rin, or her family. And this time, it wasn’t that she had died  _ yet again _ , that bothered him. This time, it was that she hadn’t even  _ experienced _ life.

He had hesitated, he had let that fear creep into his heart,  _ ignored his father _ and because of that-- she was dead. He could have stopped this.

It was his fault, his fault,  _ his fault _ .

Kohaku-san would have been disappointed.

He was the weakest man that he knew, and he hated himself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short for stylistic reasons. I hope that it conveys the hopelessness that he feels. 
> 
> I will remind people that this story WILL have a happy ending. BUT, the driving point is that Sesshoumaru only learns through his own heartbreak... and it takes a lot to break him.


End file.
